


A Simple Miscalculation

by lonelybastard



Series: Snippets of Pain [1]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-War, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelybastard/pseuds/lonelybastard
Summary: They told him it was just a mistake, a simple miscalculation.That they didn’t know why he was there, just some messages had gotten mixed up and he was dead the minute the bombs struck.It didn’t matter though, it was his fault, and now Tommy was dead.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Tubbo & Tommyinnit
Series: Snippets of Pain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157714
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	A Simple Miscalculation

They told him it was just a mistake, a simple miscalculation.

That they didn’t know why he was there, just some messages had gotten mixed up and he was dead the minute the bombs struck.

It didn’t matter though, it was his fault, and now Tommy was dead.

The funeral was held the day after. Tubbo didn’t bother going around sending invitations, he just typed a simple “Saturday 2 PM” on his comms device and set to work.

The bench looked beautiful. It was covered in dozens of red roses, and a haunting melody played in the background, looping on end. He had them bury Tommy under the tree, and a plaque was built next to it.

_Tommy: A friend, son, and hero. It was never meant to be._

He wasn’t sure who came. There were definitely people there, he felt them pat his shoulder, whispering condolences. He hoped that at least Phil came. That for once, he was there for his son, for his child that grew up too quickly and too alone.

But, again, it really didn’t matter. Not anymore, he knew what he was going to do now.

\---

They lost him within the week.

Someone had come to place more roses near the tree, and found the young boy already there.

He was dressed in his usual outfit, slumped over the bench with an empty, glistening bottle held loosely in his hand. It was a haunting shade of purple.

A disc played, repeating and repeating. It waited for the children who would never come.

\---

The stories will tell you that two heroes were buried next to each other, by an oak tree and a bench that overlooked the sunset. Next to it was a jukebox that never stopped playing.

They don’t tell you about the people who were left to mourn the unfair loss of two children.

A father makes an arduous journey from the freezing tundra to a land not far from where he took away their last hope, to teach them a lesson they never quite got to learn. He stands next to the bench, never sitting there. It’s not his place to. Despite the beating sun, he feels cold.

A pig watches from the distance, having always accompanied his father on this trip. He doesn’t get close. Instead, he stares quietly and thinks about the loss of life. There was something different this time.

A ghost sits blankly by the plaque, gazing at two bright smiles behind dusty glass. He’s always there, tethered by his unfinished symphony. In his hands is a blue clump, never transparent. It bleeds.

A tall teenager picks fresh poppies, never letting them wilt. He lays them everywhere, willing himself to never forget.

A man stares at the sunset. He will never trust again.

A woman hides in the back, her pink hair covering her face. She will regret this for the rest of her life. But she never tells anyone what she did.

A man stands next to her. He will also regret this, but for a different reason. His blue and red eyes see only gray.

A king watches them all, making notes. He promised to make it up, and he will.

A masked man sits alone in an inescapable room. He mourns the loss of his fun, vowing to get it back one way or another.

A horned-woman visits him, and mourns the loss of her child. But she also mourns the loss of two innocent children. She will keep them safe.

\---

The sun sets.

No one watches.

\---

The sun rises.

And it repeats.

**Author's Note:**

> I like angst
> 
> Pain :)


End file.
